Page 44

The shop was filling up again. A couple demons in suits, one girl in gym clothes, a cluster of students at the back hogging a table. Kalon moved through the space unbothered and focused mostly on me.

His hand closed around two cups. One to go. One for here.

I had to move. Hiding in the back forever would just get me written up. Rent didn’t care about assassins and stalkers and Lux Draven’s caffeine habits. I sucked in a breath and stepped out from behind the wall.

Immediately, eyes found me.

Not Vale’s. He was pretending to check his messages, perched at the end of the counter. Some woman near the front, though, locked on me like she’d been waiting. Tall, polished, horns tipped in silver, nails like claws. I recognized her. A regular. Double caramel latte with extra drizzle and zero patience.

“Hey,” she snapped.

I pretended I didn’t hear her, sliding past to grab a stack of lids.

“Hey.” Louder this time. “You there.”

I turned, lids still in my arms. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You can help by doing your job.” She snapped her fingers twice. “Break’s over. You have customers.”

Heat crawled up my neck. “I’m on the clock. I was just—”

“You were hiding,” she cut in. Her lip curled. “Which is funny, because you’re the one person in this building who has no reason to be tired.”

I blinked. “I don’t—”

“You really should have more respect for the demons that actually have powers,” she said. “We don’t come down here for you. We come for him.” She flicked her eyes at Kalon. “And the coffee. You’re . . . extra.”

Something in my chest twisted. Same old song and dance. I shouldn’t have cared. It still dug under my ribs.

“Ma’am,” I started, keeping my voice as flat as I could, “if you’d like to place an order, I’d be happy to—”

She leaned closer, sneer sharpening. “You know, back in Hell they would have culled someone like you. I hear it’s still a common practice in the South. Maybe they’re doing something right.”

The room tilted for a second. My stomach dropped like she’d opened a trapdoor under my feet.

Culled.

I heard it in my parents’ voices for half a second. In overheard whispers in state housing. In the way clan kids looked at me when my powers never showed.

Worthless. Extra. Waste.

The lids shook in my hands. I hoped no one saw.

Kalon did.

His whole body went still behind the counter, power coiling under his skin in a cold, silent wave. I felt it skim over my arms. The woman at the register felt it too, because her smug little mouth twitched.

Kalon’s eyes found mine.

“Liv,” he said, voice quiet. “Do you want me to handle this?”

My throat locked.

The woman scoffed. “How precious. The powerless thing needs to give her permission before her guard dog bites?”

Kalon didn’t look at her.

His gaze stayed on me, steady and patient, and that made something hot and awful crawl up behind my eyes.